PRO TIP: Don't try to wipe my kid's face

Dear Random Lady Who Tried To Wipe F's Face Today,

Wow! What a great day out there, today. I'm glad that you decided to spend your afternoon soaking up some of the Haligonian beauty and enjoying the warm weather. We were really happy to get outside, too.

I'm sorry that you seemed to think I wasn't doing an adequate job of keeping F's face clean while we were enjoying our ice cream cones on the sidewalk. What you obviously don't know is that ice cream tastes infinitely better when you have it smeared all over your face. You also clearly missed the pile of chocolate ice cream-stained napkins from the thirty times I'd already wiped his face. It's hot. Ice cream melts. Perhaps you can see how that was an uphill battle.

I am not sorry that I asked you to please not touch my child. I don't know what planet you live on, but I live in a world where you don't lay a finger on another human being without asking their permission. I also live in a world where people have this crazy thing called "personal boundaries", and when you walked up to us at the table and reached across with a napkin to wipe my kid's face, you're lucky I didn't throw my ice cream cone at you. Of course, that would have been a waste of a perfectly good ice cream.

I know that you (probably?) meant well and that you (hopefully?) meant no harm, but get your shit together, lady. Would you like it if I stood up and fixed your hair? Probably not. 

I hope you remembered your sunscreen and that the next mother of the kid whose face you try to wipe is as patient as I was. If not, you kind of deserve to get smacked.

Sincerely,

Ashley

Words

I lost my words for the past few weeks.

I'm not really sure what happened - perhaps I was just too tired, or maybe it was all the stress I've been feeling lately. Whatever the cause, I think it's finally gone. And that makes me really, really happy.

Know what else makes me really, really happy? This guy.

Last night, after a great walk and play date with new friends and after I had finished writing the first blog post I've written in weeks, F and I curled up together with a soft blanket well past our bedtime to chat. The nights of just F and I are on hold for a while, you see, as Little is coming to stay with us once again. 

F suddenly sat up, very concerned, and asked if we had remembered to put the chocolate milk back in the fridge and I couldn't help but laugh out. It was so unusual.

F is rarely concerned about issues like whether the milk is in the fridge or the light was turned off before we walked out the door. He probably couldn't care less most of the time. So, after reassuring him that the chocolate milk was, in fact, safely stored away in the refrigerator, I snuggled him a little closer and told him I loved him.

But why, Mama?

And then it hit me: I tell him all the time how smart he is. I tell him I love him. I tell F all kinds of nice things, but I never back it up - which is pretty silly, because there are millions upon millions of reasons why I love him, why he's smart and how he's a great guy. So I started telling him.

And it turned into a little game.

"I love you because you are thoughtful and funny. I like the way you think about things and ask questions so you can learn. That's why I think you're so smart."

"Mama, I love you because you do fun things with me and take care of me. And I like that you play with me a lot and we go for walks and you buy me toys all the time!"

I got a little teary-eyed hearing F say some of the things he said, and it made me realize how grown up my little boy has become. In a lot of ways, he's much older than four - he regularly helps me get dinner ready (as in, he MAKES the salad) and we have grown up conversations more often than not. It was the perfect end to a day that had gotten off to a poor start.

And the next time he's acting his own age, throwing a toy at me or trying to pull the cat by the tail, I'll savour that moment and try to wrestle him into the pants he doesn't want to put on, just the same.

Little Change

Although I wasn't totally sure we would, Little, F and I survived our three-week sleepover and I'm confident in saying that none of us were too much worse for the wear. It was a long three weeks at best, but between hiccups and tears I think we had a pretty great time. But something strange happened - F really changed.

Even when F's sperm donor father was in the picture, it was usually just F and I. Even when we lived at Mom and Dad's, it was F and I. Just the two of us and our own whacky, little dynamic. You probably didn't know this, but F and I can be home for hours at a time and not even notice one and other. We can also spend hours snuggling and so focused on one and other that we miss everything around us. It's pretty special - and while our dynamic is unique, I think it's safe to say most parents share a similar bond with their kids. They're the centre of our universe while simultaneously being an enormous pain in our asses. Amazing, no?

Needless to say, the addition of Little to our routine was a real switcheroo.

And it was hard. On all of us.

Because he wanted any attention at all, F misbehaved to make sure he got it. Because he was lonesome, Little often came into the middle of the few stolen moments F and I tried to share. Because I work 40 hours a week in an office, plus write my Frenzied Fashionista posts, plus I work out every evening, plus I try to have a social life and see Mr. Hockey Coach, I found myself getting short with both boys and my patience was pretty thin at the end.

But then, F just changed. His temperament was different - he listened better. He got himself ready for bed. He asked to go to bed at a reasonable hour. He ate his dinner at the table, put his plate in the sink and he was more helpful than ever. I said thank you more, I was angry and frustrated less... wait, did I change?

The differences between Little and F were stark, and I found myself appreciating some of F's quirks more than ever before. Perhaps my appreciation sparked the change. But more on that later. I've got one last night of child-free bliss to thoroughly enjoy...

an imperfect saturdate

I am not a perfect parent.

Actually, at least half of the time, I don't even think I'm a "good" parent. It's not for lack of want or effort, but I'm often tired and my tiredness translates to a short temper, a sharp tongue and little to no desire to go to the park and play when the day comes to an end. And weekends just don't seem to last long enough.

Last night, I let F watch a movie while we snuggled in bed together. When I awoke at 6 am this morning, I was immediately frustrated. It's a Saturday, and I just wanted to sleep in. So I tried to fall back asleep. And I couldn't. Then F woke up. Then there was just no getting back to sleep. So I started thinking about the million and one things I wanted to do today but about halfway through the list I realized that the day was early and I was already being a shitty parent. Why? Because not a single thing I was planning to do involved F. And that's pretty shitty.

So I plopped my laptop down on the bed and I turned on Frozen. And then, I went to the kitchen and made pancakes. And then I took those pancakes, dropped 'em on plates and took them to bed where I watched the entirety of Frozen with F as we ate our chocolate chip pancakes and drank chocolate milk and just enjoyed him. And then we went to Starbucks to meet a friend before walking to a playground for an hour.

And then we walked home, ate macaroni and cheese (his request), and we went to the Frog Pond for a walk. And then we ate popcorn for supper because it's a Saturday. Even though the day was pretty great, F had two timeouts and Mama has a headache now.

Absolutely nothing runs smoothly with F. He's a great little boy but he's got too much of his mother in him. We butt heads. He's stubborn and testy at the best of times, and positively stabby when things don't go his way. But he's also sweet and sensitive and intelligent, and each day is a lesson in patience for both of us. We argued at the park about whether it was time to go. I negotiated with him at the playground when the time had come to leave. It's never easy, but it's wonderful.

And that's parenting, isn't it? 

It's not about perfect outings and the cleanest home, having the most obedient child or a car without a layer of grime and Cheerios. It's about the hiccups. The arguments. The tears and the frustration and the love and the pride that makes your heart feel like it could burst. And of course, chocolate chip pancakes on Saturday mornings.

Saturdate

A few weeks ago I picked F up from preschool as always and we drove home.

It's exactly a six-minute drive from preschool/work to home. We usually listen to the same 2 songs during that drive. We were waiting to make a left-hand turn when F piped up in the backseat with a simple - yet strong - question.

How was your day, Mama?

It's a question we expect of our colleagues and spouses, friends and acquaintances but I would never expect those words to come from the mouth of my preschooler. It's so... grown up. And so, it became a thing. Every day from that day on, F would ask how my day was and I would ask him about his. During our six-minute drive, he would tell me about his favourite and least favourBite parts of the day and I would generally just tell him my day was good or bad because there's only so much you can say to a four-year-old. 

We have a lot of little things we do, like our weekly Starbucks date (every Friday), and F's bath schedule. One night a week we have pizza and one night a week we have nachos. We watch Octonauts every night before bed. I realized not so long ago that F and I spend a lot of time together without really spending anything actually together and I vowed to change that. 

Tonight, we had our weekly Saturdate - aka our "Saturday date". We do something different every Saturday, whether it's going to the park or going for a walk, grabbing "coffee" together, seeing a movie at the theatres, baking cookies, whatever. We always do something, just the two of us. Sometimes, we don't even leave the house. 

Busy with 10,000 things to do, I bunked down with my laptop to try to get ahead of my list when F came over - smiling as wide as can be - and asked what my "best part" of our date had been. It was a pretty easy answer - the best part of my date was hanging out with him, without anything else to do. But what was his? 

I got to go to McDonald's and have a nice supper, with nice chicken nuggets, and fries and yoooooooooooooogurt and there was a drink and a straw and I got to see Grampy! And then we watched a movie and remember how funny The Croods were?

He said all of this in about 11 seconds, not taking a breath from start to finish and it was pretty much the cutest thing I've ever heard.

It's easy to get completely wrapped up in work and writing and chores and trying to maintain something resembling a social life and squeeze in time for the handsome Hockey Coach, but hearing how much F enjoyed a simple, 30-minute trip to McDonald's is more than enough proof that Saturdate is the most important day of the week. 

Fourth

They say that life is what happens when you're not watching.

It's a thought that fills my mind today as I try to figure out where the last 4 years have gone. As F shoveled his Cheerios into his mouth this morning while sitting on my bed, I thought of the many mornings I laid in the dark nursing him in the comfort and quiet of bed. When we walked across the preschool parking lot holding hands, I remembered the first time he wrapped his fingers around one of mine. Or the many, many, many times he fell asleep in my arms or on my lap/chest/stomach/leg and I was itching to move but couldn't bring myself risk waking him. But life, as it does, just happened and I woke up today to see that my baby really is a little boy.  

Sometimes the days feel endless but the years slip by before you know it and the nights are just never long enough...

Happy Birthday to you, F. 

Toddler Love

There is nothing as fierce as a toddler's love.

Whether it's his cars, the cat or apple juice if F loves something, he loves it big.  There's something so magical about his innocence right now. He can just love everything and anybody and he doesn't have a care in the world. His preschool teachers? He loves them. His friends at preschool? You better believe he loves them. Pancakes? OH MY GOD THE LOVE. It's refreshing and it's entertaining and I have to admit that I am totally jealous because I wish I could be as excited for anything as that boy is about eating one of those shitty toaster pancakes in the morning. 

I couldn't help myself but to laugh last week when I caught F "cuddling" with the cat, and since my phone was handy I managed to snap this photo. With that super cute voice and big eyes, F declared his love for Duncan - his very own cat - and then kissed the furball a few times before I had to intervene. As much as Duncan loves F, Duncan did not love F's I-love-you-deathgrip-headlock. 

Because one look at that cat's face will tell you all you need to know: Sometimes love scares the shit out of you. 

Technology Time Out

Just a quick glance at my Twitter feed will tell you all you need to know: I spend a lot of time on social media. It's as much as personal choice as a professional necessity that HootSuite runs in the background at all times, no matter what I'm doing. From 7:30 am - 4:00 pm, Monday to Friday I run not one, not two, but six social media accounts and yet I go home and stay connected because it's part of my life. But it's not just Twitter and Facebook. I come home from work, throw F the iPad so he can play Angry Birds and we turn on the TV and zone out.

If it was for an hour that'd be one thing. But it's not.

So yesterday, I turned it all off. The phone. The iPad. The TV and the computer and even the radio and I declared it an 8-hour challenge for F and I. And a challenge it was, believe me. By noon, F was begging for the iPad and my fingers were twitching with the absence of my phone and that's exactly why I did it. 

But it turned out to be easily one of the best days I've had in a long time.

F's first request for the TV came about a nanosecond after he spotted it upon arriving in the living room this morning. I probably explained that it was a "no TV" or a "no iThing" day two thousand times, repeating over and over that I felt we were spending too much time in front of the various screens in our house. So I pulled out the crayons and brought F's easel into the middle of the room and we drew shapes and wrote letters and then he got tired of that. So he played with his trucks and I arm-knitted a scarf. We ate breakfast and lunch together and for a long time, I just sat and watched him play.

And then I got more cleaning done in an hour or two than I ordinarily would in a week because there was nothing to distract me. You would never know that this if you saw the apartment before I left this morning, though. Life without technology is real messy. 

And then we dug out the window crayons and decorated the window in the living room. And then we read a story. And then we bundled up as warmly as we could and we shuffled down the stairs and into the car and we drove to the Frog Pond for two hours of fun in the sun and the snow. Somewhere between setting the head on our snowman and breaking off twigs for his arms I realized how busy I've been lately and I felt ashamed of myself for sitting next to him while we each stare at our own screen and calling it "together" time. 

One day without technology doesn't make it all okay, but it inspired me in more ways than one. From now on, we'll observe a technology time out for a little while every day - even if it's just me putting my phone away for a few hours at work and letting my laptop sit undisturbed on the table until after the dinner dishes have been cleared. What seems like a small, harmless habit proved to have a big effect yesterday and I know both F and I will be reaping the benefits of our technology-free day all week.

And then I think we'll do it all again!